I love with my hands as they hold gentle to the backs of your arms,
A chest to my head hums a sound of such conviction.
A compelling starvation only satisfied by the moments you've placed your presence in my palms,
Configuring a phantasmal display of coloration into my eyes.
And you live behind my lids,
   As you echo in my mind,
allowing yourself to
be stationed throughout my ears,
with soft demand.

What is that sound?
Is it inside of me?
I want it out,
It's got to go,
Is it in me
or
is it the speaker between my inner ear that sets me off balance?
No,
It has to be me
or
it must be something inside of me
Maybe it crawled in through my ear and lucidity nestled around it to preserve a habitat for syncope
Syllables and sensibility altered by the cyclic disorder that staggers around
Aiming to methodically renounce the inane
Am I conscious?
Is it my sub-conscience?  
It's got to be me
and I've got to go
But what is that contentious voice?
The cavil of every thought in complete opposition?
The resented petulance?
It cannot stay for long
It's not mine, it can't be
Contradictions collapse from feeble tongues
Furrowed and fictitious,
the ominous presence lingers in the shadow of my mind.
My thoughts don't sound like that,
do they?
Do they?

Frantic fingers lace legs with not a single stutter or stir.
Draped in satin dressings,
        serosanginous secretions wrap legs of a cauterized nature.
Hugging near to the skin,
       lapping its sliced wound pains onto saturated gauze,
The fading sky dims dark with a limp,
and a sweat breaks the tight held assembly of entrails covered in bruised blood.

Varicose stains rhythm through my clothes and leave a stark reality of remembrance.
  Regretful instances left a mark upon the very cloth that draped over a dead, red body.
A permanent irritable nerve line leaves tree branch embellishments over ashen skin.
Electric green stems from the transparent indecencies.

Fear not, the intimate belongings huddle close to the head.

Red wine vinegar stained carpet seeping into the air.
Left behind to rot in the dry saturation,
      tasting the remains of the night befores guille words.
Carbonated cartwheels tucked into the trees,
     searching for the tranquil sun to take over the solicitude.
Absentmindedly stepping into an apathetic residual feeling,
        dipping deep into the youthless fountain of uncertainty,
           wading further, and further, and further through rocks and ******* of indecisiveness.

Sand squished between my toes,
     and I felt a warm, grounding sensation radiate throughout my body.
Feeling hot with temptation,
  stepping onward,
      Inward,
           dampening to the thigh of my floor length dress,
whirling in and out of a conscious mind.
An inquisitive voice surrounding my sanction halted the sacrificial deluge.
Waist deep in impassivity,
           I slip out of the fog filled heed,
and step onto more stable ground.

Break all of my bones in a rhythmic fashion
                  so it's musically satisfying to feel the tiny fragments crack and resonate within the closed walls of my skin
Blood turned cold as the words spat back at me,
            as cold as the floor I laid upon,
Fixated with fear,
            vibrating fingers held true to the stifled senses

Pink slipped and no longer dredging,
       fervency was sprinkled along the gates of the unexplored,
Exchanges so sheer and uninviting,
             freezer burned words meet the cold shoulder in return
Extraneously overused,
                   the body will drop to alteration,
Just a daub on the road map that paves the way through your existence,
       drumming fingers along the collarbones to off put the beating of an unforgiving chest.

Saturated porcelain seats covered in undefeated liquids leave an acidic wear to the atmosphere.
Indescribable desires proclaim in an ever-changing disposition,
   The irrelevance of an ever-changing mood.
An uncertain strangeness dwells between my bones causing a one day to the next vagary of actions.
A daily reintroduction of myself to myself,
       like the front line hasn't been brimming over in occult chemical combination.
Inclination of the decline leads a battle of stabilization,
    a pang steams into a medial lunge hunching the body over in disrepair.
Convulsing through the morning,
     the fever heats its casing in a chronic complacency.

I want sanctuary pressings into unmarked skin,
     deeming it new and full with impressionable thumbprints.
Gripping at the features that lie down with the both of us,
   a grabbing that can't be closer than to reach for your insides,
Fingertip grazes without a nail to add to the bite.
Rubbing dry of the sturdy galavant,
open mouth breaths press hushed words into backbones,
     and send a sheet grabbing pulsation through the body
Leaning in to come closer,
          Rising to the occasion,
Hip bones grate and bruise under the enticing pairing,
           and the exteriority is captivated